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Internet Archive Python library 0.9.8
Iowa City, Iowa December 30th 1872
Dear Miss Chandler, If distance enhances the romance of friendship, I must hasten to fulfill my promise, since here I face homeward, and from'the Iowaâ, or'pleasant landâ of Indian tradition. A pleasant land and hospitable truly, open as their prairies, and serene as their skies. Everywhere, at Dubuque, Waterloo, Fort Dodge, Des Moines, Marshalltown, Grennell, here in Iowa City, the widest opportunities for meeting the best people- parlors, halls, [page break] pulpits, school-rooms, regardless of sect or school, sex or circle. [Really?] the enjoyment of such hospitalities alike to thought and person threatens to cast his own neighborhood into disrepute. Here at any rate is character, if less of culture, more of catholicity. The vigorous New England stock transplanted to the deeper soil of these prairies, yields a fresher and riper fruit. Some day we will make a party of three or four, and see together this splendid state. Very pleasant my fellowships greatly enhanced moreover to be admitted into homes to find a daughters'name'a household word!- her books better known even, than nearer [page break] home- her latest preceding me, and at every hearthside, on every platform I chance to mount, her story must be told and gain in telling. Here at a Christmas Tree Festival old and young, a roomful, must needs give three cheers after the telling for the author of Little Women. Literally proud papa is everywhere [——–] to the high places and honor on [underline]âJoe'sâ[/underline] account. And pray, how passes the holiday with yourself? One brief word, if no more, about thine, many about yourself especially, whom amidst the many charming children of the prairie, I do not the less admire and remember. I leave presently for Davenport Iowa, where letters will find me [page break] if addressed to the care of'George H. French Esq.â From there I expect to take the River cities to St. Louis. It is my hope to write again, and again. Very affectionately, Your friend, A Bronson Alcott